I am not someone who believes in coincidence; I believe that many things happen because that's the way they're supposed to happen. The following story is a perfect example. I didn't post it at the time because I was keeping my father-in-law's illness out of my blog. He read my blog when he was alive and I didn't want him to have to face my thoughts about it.

I have a set of friends ("Bob" and "Ann", and now, their partners) that I've known for almost 20 years. They were my lifeline's when I was going through my divorce 15 years ago, and we've all been there for each other through things that life hands out. We don't see each other now more than once a year, because we are all just so busy. We keep in contact via email for the most part. They hadn't yet met BJ so we decided it was time. We started planning this dinner about four months ago, but had to keep canceling due to one circumstance or another. Finally the date was set for this past January 30th.

On the way to dinner I shared with BJ the fact that Bob lost his dad to emphysema on 12/26, just three weeks prior. I assured him that they knew nothing about his father, so this is not a topic that he needed to worry about talking about if he didn't want to.

We all got caught up and I asked Bob how he was doing after the loss of his dad. He shared the up's and down's and brought up Hospice and said how important it was that Hospice was there. He shared how it went at the end, and it was almost identical to BJ's dad. The family had NO idea how sick Bob's dad was until the very very end. Bob shared that he and his brother were holding their dad's hand when he passed on, and it was a really beautiful thing for them.

Ann, my other friend, then shared that her dad was just put into Hospice and shared the circumstances behind that. BJ put his hand on my knee and I knew right then, that this was going to be good for him.

To my surprise (because he's such a private person), BJ brought up his dad. He shared what had been happening, and my friends just listened. BJ asked questions of Bob because his story was so similar to what BJ was going through at that time. There were a few tears at the table that night, but surprisingly, the tears were tears of empathy from those listening to the stories of others. Not from the person telling their story.

On the way home, BJ kept saying how he couldn't get over the timing of all of this and how important it was to hear all of this. We'd planned this dinner before Bob's dad died, and certainly before BJ's dad got the prognosis. We didn't know anything about Ann and her dad. This was just the exact right time.

In addition to the sharing such personal emotional things, we laughed. We sometimes laughed so loud that people looked at us but we didn't care!

In the end, BJ told my friends that he felt that he'd made some really good friends, and they all said that they all now had a built in support system. They decided to call themselves the "Hospice club" and planned our next get together for April, and will be getting together bi-monthly from now on.

In this past month, BJ lost his dad and I got word today that Ann, the remaining member of the "Hospice club" lost her dad this weekend.

I have a feeling that the next time we get together, all of the dads will be 'with' us and laughing right along side of us. We may not hear that laughter, but it'll be there.

When an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Dundee, Scotland, it was believed that she had nothing left of any value. Later, when the nurses were going through her meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital. One nurse took her copy to Ireland.

The old lady's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the North Ireland Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on her simple, but eloquent, poem. And this little old Scottish lady, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this "anonymous" poem winging across the Internet.

It meant a whole lot to me, so I wanted to post it here in case you were missed in the email rounds.

Crabby Old Woman

What do you see, nurses?
What do you see?
What are you thinking
When you're looking at me?

A crabby old woman,
Not very wise,
Uncertain of habit,
With faraway eyes?

Who dribbles her food
And makes no reply
When you say in a loud voice,
"I do wish you'd try!"

Who seems not to notice
The things that you do,
And forever is losing
A stocking or shoe?

Who, resisting or not,
Lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding,
The long day to fill?

Is that what you're thinking?
Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse,
You're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am
As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding,
As I eat at your will.

I'm a small child of ten
With a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters,
Who love one another.

A young girl of sixteen
With wings on her feet
Dreaming that soon now
A lover she'll meet.

A bride soon at twenty,
My heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows
That I promised to keep.

At twenty-five now,
I have young of my own,
Who need me to guide
And a secure happy home.

A woman of thirty,
My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other
With ties that should last.

At forty, my young sons
Have grown and are gone,
But my man's beside me
To see I don't mourn.

At fifty once more,
Babies play round my knee,
Again we know children,
My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me,
My husband is dead,
I look at the future,
I shudder with dread.

For my young are all rearing
Young of their own,
And I think of the years
And the love that I've known.

I'm now an old woman
And nature is cruel;
'Tis jest to make old age
Look like a fool.

The body, it crumbles,
Grace and vigor depart,
There is now a stone
Where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass
A young girl still dwells,
And now and again,
My battered heart swells.

I remember the joys,
I remember the pain,
And I'm loving and living
Life over again.

I think of the years
All too few, gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact
That nothing can last.

So open your eyes, people,
Open and see,
Not a crabby old woman;
Look closer . . . see ME!!


Remember this poem when you next meet an old person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within.

The whole family is getting together to watch my brother in a play the first weekend of April. Even my mother-in-law is coming. This will be the first time any of the parent's have met each other (my folks didn't come to our wedding..... long story.)

We've been working out logistics (hotel, which weekend, etc). It's a small town, so not too many options.

Just in today from my dad:
==========================================
...........[boring stuff about plans], then this gem:

By the way, you get a discount at Comfort Inn if you are over 50 and a larger discount if you are over 60.

The benefits just keep piling up.

Love,
Dad

==========================================

And this, my friends, is where I get my sense of humor from. The benefit of not being his biological daughter is the fact that I did not inherit his eyebrows. If you saw him, you'd say "what eyebrows"?

heh... one time I threatened to send him these. Yeah, I'm helpful like that.

I'm one of those action oriented types. Give me a problem and watch me go! Don't make me plan it out. I don't need "no stinkin' plan" to get from point A to point B.

Yesterday I ordered my b-father's death certificate and I'm trying to locate his obituary. Since my original intent to find him not only about finding him, but also finding his family, the fact that he's no longer alive shouldn't stop my search.

His death certificate will give me information about how he died. It's not morbid curiosity, it's because of it being potentially due to complications from the same disorder I have. I'm hoping to see the words, "auto accident" on the death certificate, quite frankly. Sixty is awfully young.

I got one dead end on the obituary, but the county librarian said she'd research other papers for the week before and after the date of death, in case the information I have is wrong. The obituary is where I hope to find information about my b-siblings.

Since my father had such strong genes (I look just like him) I wonder what my sisters look like. I've always wondered what "me" looks like. There's also that whole debate about environment -vs- genes. Are they like me? My cousin, who I've just reunited with (shout out to kruzerone!) knew my father. My cousin is MUCH (snicker) older than me. He told me that my father was a very smart and determined type of man. His description of his personality sounds an awful lot like mine in regard to my business side. I don't know what kind of human being he was though. He sounded very passionate, but was he kind?

Here is a picture of my b-father and my mother on their wedding day. There is no denying I look like him. My oldest son has his identical face from the nose up. Same identical nose. It's kind of freaky actually, because I don't have that nose. I have his eyes, cheekbones, lips (or lack thereof) and I used to have those eyebrows. Ugggh.


I did briefly tell hubby about it, but played down how I felt about it. It was maybe a five minute conversation. That's very short considering all of the hours I've been thinking about it in the last two days. Really, after I figured out what it was that made me sad, it all made a whole lot more sense.

It's all about closure. Things I can no longer ask. I can't say that I loved this man, because I didn't even know him. I was curious about him, and very curious about his actions; or rather, lack of actions. I was curious as to whether what my mother has told me all along was true. Did he REALLY leave her when she became pregnant with me because he didn't want children? That would explain why he never made an effort to contact me. But it wouldn't explain why I have siblings.

So now I can only hope to find out these answers from any family that he may have left. Even if it is true, I don't think that finding out for sure is going to take any more of an emotional toll on me than it has over the past 45 years. It's something I've learned to believe. It would be really cool to find out that what I was lead to believe all these years was wrong. If not, well, no harm done.

There is family out there and I intend to find them. If they don't have the answers, that's fine. That's not why I'm searching.

Stay tuned...

I have been searching for my biological father off and on throughout my entire adult life. It wasn't because I needed a father, I already have a truly wonderful father. He's my Dad. It's easy to be a father, but I believe that being a dad is something special.

I think part of my reason of wanting to locate my father was out of curiosity, part of it was wanting to know the "real" story, not just my mother's side, and part of it was to track down my biological siblings and any surviving members of his family. I can tell by looking at pictures of my biological father that he has some pretty strong genes. I have several of his facial features, and his curly dark hair. I also recognize parts of him in both of my boys, which is rather strange since I've never met the man. I've only seen pictures. I'd like to see what the rest of "me" looks like. I am also curious about him. What was he like? Am I like him?

I've never hired a private investigator, but I've ordered plenty of those $80.00+ people searches that gave me lots of dead ends, so I'd give up for another year or so before trying again.

Last night, while BJ was out with da boys, I was bored and ran a google seach on my name just to see what's out there. I do that every once in a while because it cracks me up. My same-name counterparts are all very cool and successful people. One is a TV producer, one is a marathon runner, one is an attorney and one is married to someone with my brother's name. That was kind of weird to read. Yuck... love ya, bro, but yuck!

Last night's search lead me to a link to an adoption registry. My heart started pounding because I thought that maybe my father (or other family members) was looking for me. Turned out that it wasn't me, but I decided to go ahead and register there. Couldn't hurt.

Within two hours I got an email back from someone who does free records research. First of all, how cool is that? She looked up my information and told me lots of stuff about my mother and the marriage to my biological father. Then she told me that she found a death record that was the same name (first, middle and last) and the right age. I don't know his birthday, but it was the correct year. He died when he was 60, almost 13 years ago. I'm willing to bet that he died of the same disorder that I have, since it's genetic.

I don't know this man, yet I was overwhelmed with sadness when I read that email. I'm still sad, but the sadness is being trumped by curiosity about WHY I'm sad.

I wish this information had come at a different time, because I don't feel like it would be appropriate for me to be upset about this and share those feelings of sadness with my husband. He just lost his father; a man who he has known and was best friends with his entire life. To me, showing any grief over this person that I didn't know would seem to minimize what my husband is going through. Not to mention the fact that he died 13 years ago. I'm having a difficult time wrapping my mind around all of this.

I have a lot to mentally sort through and process. Why am I feeling this way about someone I didn't know? Where do I want to go from here? Do I just barge in on my siblings? I now know where he lived and when he died, so I could probably get an obituary giving me lots of information. What if they don't even know I exist? Does his wife (assuming he was married at the time of his death) know I exist? I don't believe in intruding where I'm not invited; invading people's privacy. This could potentially be a huge intrusion and invasion.

This information has also smacked me in the face with my own mortality. Sixty years is not very old.

wow.